


For Thy Parting, Neither Say Nor Sing

by darthrevaan (Burning_Nightingale)



Series: Send Me A Ship AU Fics [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/darthrevaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life changes drastically for everyone after Anakin contracts a terminal disease that gives him only three years to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Thy Parting, Neither Say Nor Sing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an askbox fic meme, for the prompt: one of [the OTP] being diagnosed with a terminal illness AU
> 
> Title comes from the Coventry Carol, which has a hundred versions but I was specifically inspired by the one from the Byzantium soundtrack (though the Medieval Bæbes version is also beautiful and has the full carol, and comes highly recommended)

Padmé comes into the room slowly, and sinks down into the seat by the bed. She looks numb, shell-shocked, disbelieving.

Anakin reaches out and takes her hand, squeezes it, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I-” Padmé only manages to get one syllable out before her voice chokes up. She swallows, scowling down at the bedsheets, then spits, “It’s just not _fair_.”

Anakin rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. “It never is.”

“The war is about to end,” Padmé says quietly, still not looking at him. “Even a blind man could see that. You were almost- we were almost-”

“We were almost there,” Anakin says gently. He squeezes her hand again. “But we can be happy, Padmé, I promise, if only for a few years.”

Padmé lets out a choked sob. “Only a few years. That’s all we get. For everything we’ve done, that’s all we get.”

“All we can do is wait and hope,” Anakin says quietly. “There’s no cure.”

Padmé looks up at him then, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re so calm about it,” she says, her tone almost accusatory.

 _Because it doesn’t feel real,_ Anakin thinks. _I don’t think I’ve really processed it yet._

Three years, the doctor had said. Maybe four at a push. He’d been diagnosed with Veralian lung rot, a rare disease he’d contracted in the hot jungles of the planet his battalion had just retaken. It comes from breathing in spores; a few days exposure might make you feel ill, but Anakin had been out there for four weeks with no protection. The infection will spread very slowly, making it harder and harder for him to breathe, until his lungs cease to function at all.

There is no cure.

“It doesn’t seem real,” Anakin admits quietly.

A tear slips down Padmé’s face. “Oh, Anakin.”

He holds out an arm to her. “Come here. Please.”

She slips off her light shoes and climbs into bed, curling up next to him and pressing her face into his shoulder. “What will I do without you,” she whispers. She laces their fingers together and presses both their hands to her round stomach. “What will we do without you?”

Anakin doesn’t know what to say; instead he just kisses her hair and holds her while she cries.

/

Both he and Padmé eventually fall asleep, and Anakin wakes later to the awareness of someone else in the room.

He cracks open his eyes and sees Obi-Wan, sitting in the chair by the bed, looking down at his hands. “You’re back,” he whispers, quiet so as not to wake Padmé, who’s still asleep with her head on his shoulder.

Obi-Wan looks up at him; the expression on his face cuts Anakin to the core. He’s never seen him looks so hopeless, so defeated. “I came as soon as I heard,” he whispers, voice barely audible.

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin trails off, cursing his inability to find the right thing to say.

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. “The five-oh-first are in quarantine,” he says quietly. “It’s quite possible some of them have contracted the disease as well.”

Anakin tips his head back and presses his eyes closed. He has prayed it would only be him. “No confirmed cases?”

“Not yet.”

Anakin groans quietly. “Rex had his helmet off almost as much as me. If he…”

“I’ll look after them,” Obi-Wan promises. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”

“Thank you,” Anakin says quietly. They sit in silence for a little while before Anakin decides he might as well tackle the elephant in the room. “Master…Padmé and I…”

Obi-Wan waves a dismissive hand. “I know, Anakin. Neither of you are exactly subtle. And if you want to spend your last few years with the one you love, and your child, who am I to stop you? In fact, I think you should.” Obi-Wan looks down. “You’ve sacrificed more than enough for this war.”

Anakin reaches out for his hand, and is mildly surprised when Obi-Wan gives it with no protest. “I don’t want you to be alone,” he says quietly. “Please, Obi-Wan. Don’t shut other people out when I’m gone. I want you to be happy.”

Obi-Wan tries for a smile, but it doesn’t seem to be able to stick on his face. “Of course, Anakin. I’ll have the other Jedi.”

“I don’t mean the other Jedi,” Anakin says, shaking his head. “I mean someone who’s important to you. Take another padawan, maybe. Just have someone.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan nods. “Alright. I will.”

“And…” Anakin trails off, a little wary of asking the question, but he needs to. “You’ll look after Padmé for me? And our baby?”

“Always,” Obi-Wan whispers.

/

Anakin insists on not being treated like an invalid. “My lungs haven’t rotted yet,” he mutters near-constantly.

Padmé is resigning her position as Senator. When she announced it Anakin was horrified, but she is determined. “I’ll have a baby and you to look after,” she says firmly. “I won’t have time to be Senator as well.”

Anakin has left the Jedi Order by now; they were sad to see him go, but they were surprisingly understanding. The Republic want to award him some medal for bravery, but he’s not sure he wants to accept it.

They’re in Padmé’s apartment, organising the moving of her belongings to Naboo, when Anakin gets a comm call. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face. “Not the clones.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin.”

Anakin leans forward and rests his head between his knees, trying to fight the burning sensation in his throat. “How many?”

“Five. Including…including Rex.”

“ _Dammit_.” Anakin punches the top of the coffee table; it makes a satisfying noise, but it hurts like hell. “Kriffing _stanging_ dammit.”

“I’ve made contact with a…Republic associate who can get them off planet. Take them somewhere they can live the rest of their lives in peace.”

“They already had accelerated lifespans. Their lives being cut short- it’s just not _fair_.”

“It’s not fair that any of you have it, Anakin.”

“Who the hell was organising intel on our mission?” Anakin snaps. “Someone must have kriffing known about the kriffing spores _somewhere_.”

“It was a gross oversight, and trust me, it’s something I intend to look into thoroughly,” Obi-Wan promises, his voice dark. Anakin can well imagine the kind of ‘looking-into’ he’ll be engaged in.

“I guess that’s all we’ll get, then,” Anakin mutters.

“Probably. We’ll have to see.”

“Who was that on the comm?” Padmé asks a few minutes later, as she comes back into the living room, after Obi-Wan has hung up. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says, and explains the whole sorry business with the clones to her.

Padmé doesn’t say anything, but he knows she understands; she hugs him tight, and it’s a comfort just to be close.

/

It’s another three days until he manages to visit Rex and the other members of the 501st. They’re still technically in quarantine, but since Anakin has already been diagnosed, there’s not much point keeping him out.

They all perk up a little when they see him. “General,” Rex says, standing, “How did you get past the quarantine?”

Anakin opens his mouth and pauses, not sure how to break the news. After a moment Rex’s face falls. “No- you’re not-” But the news is already dawning on the others, and they know it’s the only way.

“Yeah,” Anakin says, his voice slightly choked. “I mean, I didn’t have a helmet at all, so…”

“I’m so sorry, General,” Kix says, “The bioscan didn’t pick anything up-”

“It’s not your fault. We shouldn’t have been on that planet without proper gear in the first place. It was Republic Intel’s fault.”

“Well, we all know how useless _they_ are,” Jesse says, trying for a joke.

There are a few muted chuckles. Anakin looks around at them. “Who has it and who doesn’t, then?”

“Me and Jesse,” Rex says, “Kix is clear, so far. So is Coric.”

“At least there’s _some_ good news,” Anakin says, smiling slightly.

“What…what happens now, sir?” Kix asks. “What happens to them? They’ll have to be discharged-”

“There’s somewhere for them to go,” Anakin promises. “Obi-Wan is organising it. It’s safe.” He breathes out a long sigh. “Safe. That’s not even half what you deserve.”

/

They say goodbye to Obi-Wan at the spaceport. “I still think you should come,” Anakin tells him. “Just for a little bit.”

“There’s still the war to think about,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin can tell he’s in pain, but he’s hiding it well. “I’ll come as often as I’m able, Anakin, I promise.”

“You better,” Anakin grins, then after a moment of hesitation, pulls him into a tight hug. Obi-Wan doesn’t resist; he hugs back just as tight, and Anakin can feel him breathe out a long sigh.

After they let go and stand back, they just look at each other for a little while. “I’m so sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly.

“It’s okay,” Anakin murmurs. “I’ll be okay.”

He feels Padmé come up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “They’re ready to go.”

Anakin nods. Obi-Wan smiles at both of them, a pained, sad smile, then nods towards the ship. “Go on. I’ll make sure everything stays sane in your absence.”

Turning away and walking up the ship’s ramp is hard; Anakin hates the idea of leaving Obi-Wan behind, of leaving him to go into danger alone. But it’s also freeing; no Jedi, no war, no battles and dead and heartache. Just him and Padmé and their baby. _Family_.

Padmé takes his hand. “We’ll be alright,” she says quietly.

He smiles down at her. “I know we will.”

/

Padmé’s family had had a mixed reaction to the revelation that they were married and about to have a child. Her sister had been gleeful, saying she’d suspected there was something going on from the start; her mother was more wary, though delighted to become a grandmother again; her father seemed rather disgruntled, but he’s coming around. Anakin suspects they weren’t as harsh as they might have been, given his illness.

They move in to Varykino, and Padmé spends her days directing the painters and decorators that are doing up one of the rooms as the baby’s new nursery. The room is light and airy and has a lovely view of the lake, and most importantly, is right next door to their new bedroom.

Anakin watches her, or reads out in the shade of the trees on the patio, or takes walks along the side of the lake. He tries to get used to a quiet life.

It’s when Padmé comes back from her doctor’s appointment that he gets the most surprising news of all.

Padmé sits down at the kitchen counter, still in shock, and Anakin rushes to her, thinking the worst. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

Gently, Padmé begins to smile. “No, nothing wrong. Just…different to what I was expecting. I can’t _believe_ that damn medical droid.”

Anakin blinks, confused. “What?”

“I told it not to tell me the sex of the child. Somehow it interpreted that in such a way that it thought it was prohibited from telling me I was actually having two children.”

His mind goes blank with surprise for a moment, then he echoes, “Two?”

“Yes, Ani. Twins.”

“Oh.” After a moment, he grins. “I guess that means we need another cot.”

Padmé smiles brilliantly at him.

/

She has their children two weeks later, a long and painful night for her and a long and worrying night for Anakin. Eventually, as the sun rises, the twins are born, a boy and a girl.

Padmé holds the boy in her arms, murmuring things softly to him. She looks exhausted, but radiant. “Maybe you should rest,” Anakin says quietly. The girl is in his arms; she’s already asleep.

“I want to name them first,” Padmé says, stroking one soft finger over their son’s tiny head.

“Well, lucky we picked out a girl’s name and a boy’s, isn’t it?” Anakin says with a grin. “And now neither of us has to feel disappointed.”

“Luke,” Padmé says quietly, touching their son’s cheek. He wriggles his arms a little. “Yes. And- it was Leia, wasn’t it?”

Anakin nods, looking down at his daughter. “I think you should take a leaf out of her book,” he says, leaning down so Padmé can see Leia’s sleeping face.

“Maybe,” Padmé says, her smile turning into a big yawn. “I have been up all night.”

Sola chooses that moment to bustle into the room, grinning happily. “Still not passed out yet, sis?” she teases.

“I was just planning to,” Padmé says, holding Luke out to Sola. “Will you take him?”

“Of course.” Carefully, Sola transfers Luke from Padmé’s arms to hers. “We’ll leave you in peace. I’m sure these two will enjoy meeting grandma and grandpa.”

Anakin leans over and presses a kiss to Padmé’s forehead, then follows Sola out of the room and into the living room where Jobal and Ruwee are waiting.

“She’s asleep?” Jobal asks, standing with a smile.

Anakin nods. “It was enough effort with one,” Sola says, sitting down on the sofa next to her father, “I can’t imagine how exhausted she is after two!” Jobal chuckles quietly.

“Now, is this the young man or the young lady?” Ruwee asks, leaning over to look at Luke.

“The boy,” Sola says, grinning.

“We named them,” Anakin says, passing Leia to Jobal. “Padmé had been picking out names for weeks. The boy is Luke, and the girl is Leia.”

“Lovely,” Jobal says quietly, looking proudly down at her sleeping granddaughter. “They’re beautiful. Just beautiful.”

/

About three days later everyone is gathered around in the dining room, Padmé and Anakin both trying to eat while holding one twin each, and subsequently being laughed at by everyone else. “Before you ask, I’m not getting any droid helpers,” Padmé insists, the comment directed toward her mother. “No droid is holding my babies. Well, unless it’s Threepio, obviously.”

The golden protocol droid is gleaming in the sunlight over by the open windows of the rotunda. “I would be most honoured, if need arose,” he says politely.

“Where did you get Threepio, Padmé?” Sola asks curiously.

“That’s a long story,” Padmé smiles.

“I found him in an old junkyard when I was a kid,” Anakin says. “Fixed him up. Left him with my step-brother when I joined the Jedi, and he finished him off. Then he came with me when I visited again, and I gave him to Padmé.”

“So it’s _Padmé_ that favours the flashy gold plates,” Sola says with a sly grin.

“Well, he had to look presentable,” Padmé says primly.

Suddenly the low tinkling noise of a bell echoes up through the house. “That’s the doorbell,” Ruwee says, turning his head toward it. “I wonder who that could be?”

“I’ll get it,” Anakin volunteers, standing and handing Luke over to Sola.

When he opens the front door, he barely has time to glimpse the visitors before someone has thrown themselves at him in a tight hug. He’s confused for a moment before a soft voice sobs, “ _Skyguy_.”

Anakin wraps his arms around her tight. “Hey, Snips.”

Ahsoka clings to him for a little while, and he clings too, rubbing one hand up and down her back. She isn’t alone; Anakin takes a moment to wonder at the sight of Rex in civilian clothing, standing rather awkwardly on his doorstep. “General Kenobi is here too,” Rex says, “He’s just talking to your, um, servant, something about parking the ship…”

Anakin nods. Ahsoka chooses this moment to pull away, vigorously wiping at her eyes with one hand. “Sorry,” she mutters, sniffing.

“It’s okay, Snips.” He puts one hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you’d be off partying around the galaxy, enjoying freedom and whatnot.”

“Yeah, easier said than done without any _cash_ ,” Ahsoka says, raising her eyebrows. “I went back to Coruscant when I saw the news broadcasts. Obi-Wan was already about to come here, so I came too.”

Anakin peers down the path. “Where is the old man, anyway?”

“I heard that,” Obi-Wan’s voice says from around the bend. He appears a moment later, a bag slung over one shoulder. “Your estate manager is very particular about where each ship fits in the hangar,” he says by way of explanation.

“That he is,” Anakin says. “Why don’t you come inside?”

/

Padmé’s family leave a few days later, needing to get back to their own lives. The afternoon after they leave finds Anakin sitting in the living room, the doors open wide to the summer air, watching Ahsoka coaxing Rex into holding Leia.

“She’s just a baby. She’s not going to bite,” Ahsoka teases, holding her out to him.

Rex looks nervous, which is an expression Anakin has rarely glimpsed on his unflappable Captain’s face. “I know that,” he says, hesitantly reaching out for her.

“Just remember to support her head,” Ahsoka says, carefully placing Leia into his arms.

Obi-Wan has Luke, and is sitting on the other sofa, nattering away to him quietly enough that Anakin can’t make out exactly what he’s saying. The bits he catches sound like some sort of gooey nonsense, so maybe he doesn’t want to know anyway. Obi-Wan is completely smitten with both twins, though he gets very flustered when Anakin teases him about enjoying being a grandpa.

Anakin gets up off the sofa and goes over to the window. He can see Padmé outside; she’s doing some kind of exercise regime with one of her handmaidens on the lawn. “I know it’s a cliché, but I want to be able to fit into my old dresses,” Padmé had said earlier. “And there’s nothing wrong with being healthy.”

Anakin thinks she looks beautiful anyway, whether she’s perfectly slim or a little plump, but it isn’t his decision, so he’d just shrugged.

After a moment Ahsoka comes over and joins him. She scowls out at the beautiful landscape. “It’s so unfair,” she says, low so the others don’t overhear. “Here we are, in this beautiful place, you guys are a happy family, and…it’s just so easy to forget.”

“Yeah.” Anakin looks down. “Ironic, isn’t it? We only get this chance because it’s about to be pulled away from us.”

Ahsoka looks at him, concern in her eyes. “Do you feel ill yet?”

Anakin shakes his head. “I feel fine. A little short of breath if I run somewhere, but I try not to do that. The doctors say strenuous exercise increases the pace of the spread.”

“That’s what Rex says.” She glances back over her shoulder at him. “I think it’s going to be hard, for him and the others to slow down so suddenly.”

“Is he going to live with you?” Anakin asks.

Ahsoka bites her lip. “I don’t really…well, I’ve sort of been moving about a bit. Visited a few people here and there.” Before Anakin can get into that worrying sentence, Ahsoka’s face lights up. “You’ll never guess who I met! Obi-Wan’s brother!”

Anakin blinks. “I didn’t even know he had one.”

“You should see him; they’re identical twins, and the likeness is uncanny.” Ahsoka grins. “Well, physically anyway. Owen’s a bit of an ass, actually.”

“And Obi-Wan’s not?” Anakin snorts.

Ahsoka punches his arm. “Shut up. Also, Owen is a space pirate.”

“Oh wow. I’m sure Obi-Wan would love to hear that.”

“Well, apparently Obi-Wan’s not supposed to care. Since their family disowned Owen and all, he’s supposedly dead to all of them.”

“Well.” Anakin glances over at Obi-Wan; he’s still cooing at Luke, completely oblivious to their conversation. “I’m sure they’ll resolve their family feud if need be. In the meantime, what are you doing with your life?”

Ahsoka groans and rolls her eyes. “Are you like my dad now?”

“I only have so long, Snips. I need to see you in a good job, making something of yourself, before I die.”

Ahsoka scowls at him. “Don’t pull the guilt card.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Ahsoka crosses her arms and looks away. “I haven’t found a place to settle yet.”

“You could settle here,” Anakin offers.

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Maybe. I want to…I want to travel a bit first, though. Make my way in the universe.”

Anakin nods. “Just know that there’s always a home here if you need it,” he says seriously.

“Thanks,” Ahsoka says with a smile.

Then Anakin nods at Rex. “What about him? You can’t take Rex gallivanting across the galaxy with you, not if you’re going anywhere dangerous. Strenuous exercise and all.”

“Well, apparently after this he’s going to go join the other discharged clones on Mandalore,” Ahsoka says. “There’s a whole group of them there somewhere, out where the Republic can’t find them, semi-in-hiding. Someone in the GAR – but not a clone – was organising it.”

“Mandalore and clones,” Anakin says, shaking his head, “I’d bet anything Jusik has something to do with that.” He shrugs. “Well, so long as they’re happy and safe.”

“They will be,” Ahsoka says, “I’ll make sure of it.”

/

Later that night, Anakin is sitting next to Obi-Wan, on a cushioned bench out on the patio. Obi-Wan has Luke again – Padmé has been saying they’re becoming best friends – while Anakin has Leia. The outside lights are on a cycle and have long since extinguished themselves; the light of the moon above paints everything silver.

Obi-Wan is singing quietly, a sweet, soft lullaby that Anakin remembers Obi-Wan singing to him too, when he first came to the Jedi Temple. It’s in Obi-Wan’s own language, one Anakin has never had time to learn, and despite not knowing the meaning, Anakin has always loved it.

Anakin can distinctly remember another time Obi-Wan had sung the same song. Trapped by a cave in, cut off from medical supplies and hours from rescue, Obi-Wan had sung the calming melody as he held the hand of a dying clone, his injuries too serious for them to mend, but not serious enough to let him die quickly. The lullaby had calmed the man, and let him slip away in peace.

After a few verses Anakin finds his own eyes are heavy. “You’re going to send _me_ to sleep if you keep that up, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs.

“It only used to take a few verses before you’d nod off,” Obi-Wan whispers fondly.

They sit in silence for a long time, watching the stars, listening to the sounds of night animals and small waves lapping at the edges of the lake. “I’ll have to go back to Coruscant soon, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers after a while.

“I’ll miss you,” Anakin says softly.

“And I you. All of you.” It’s not something Obi-Wan would usually easily admit to; Anakin feels touched. Obi-Wan glances down at Luke. “But there is still a war to win, though it has reached its closing act.”

“Keep safe,” Anakin murmurs. “I’m the one who’s supposed to die first, if you remember.”

Obi-Wan winces. “I…”

“Well, better to joke about it than mope about it.”

That brings something like a smile to Obi-Wan’s face. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

/

Obi-Wan leaves two days later; Ahsoka is still hanging around, and Anakin gets the feeling she’s reluctant to go. “You can stay, if you want to,” he offers her.

She shakes her head. “I know I’m going. I just need to know _where_.”

Rex, who’s sitting on a bench a few metres from them, suggests, “Well, I’m going to Mandalore. You could come there for a while.”

Ahsoka suddenly looks stricken. “I’m supposed to be taking you to Mandalore!” she exclaims. “I completely forgot!”

Rex looks uncomfortable. “Well, I didn’t actually _expect_ you to, Commander-”

“No, no, I’ll take you, we should leave soon-”

And within the day, they’re almost ready to go.

“Once she makes a decision, sometimes she just has to get on with it quickly,” Anakin observes to Padmé as they stand on a balcony, watching Rex and Ahsoka make the last pre-flight checks down on the landing pad.

“I won’t pretend I’m not going to miss them,” Padmé says quietly.

“They’ll come back,” Anakin says with a smile, confident in this belief.

They wave them off, wishing them luck, and when their ship has disappeared from view, Padmé makes a small, curious sound. “Well, we’re on our own now,” she says in response to Anakin’s questioning eyebrow. “We finally get to see how well we look after the twins by ourselves.”

/

They don’t stay alone for long. After only three short days, another, unexpected ship drops onto the landing pad.

“It wouldn’t have been able to approach if their signal wasn’t recognised,” Padmé says, laying a reassuring hand on Anakin’s arm.

He still feels wary. “I know.”

All feelings of suspicion vanish when the ramp descends and four familiar, red cloaked figures stride down and take up positions on either side. Anakin feels a wave of Padmé’s surprise rush through the Force, then a touch of anxiety. “Oh, isn’t it dangerous for him to come all this way?” she asks quietly.

“I’m sure he’s taken precautions,” Anakin says, smiling and walking towards the ship eagerly.

Palpatine appears, resplendent as usual in long dark robe, and smiles widely when he sees Anakin and Padmé waiting for him. “My dears,” he says when he reaches the bottom of the ramp. He takes a long look at both of them. “Such joy. Such sadness. It is hard to know where to begin.”

“I’m sure coming inside and resting after your journey might be one good idea,” Padmé says, smiling.

They don’t speak about Anakin’s illness; there really isn’t much to say, Anakin feels. He’s dying, that’s the end of it. He’s just going to enjoy the time he has. Palpatine is so understanding, has always been so good at reading Anakin’s emotions, that Anakin assumes he must simply have worked this out for himself.

Palpatine is delighted when introduced to the twins. “Such beautiful babies,” he says quietly. “I think she has your eyes, my boy,” he says to Anakin, and Anakin flushes with pride.

They spend most of the day either cooing over the twins or discussing what’s been going on in the Republic since Anakin and Padmé left. Palpatine looks tired and even slightly careworn when he discusses the war, but he assures both of them that it will be over soon. “And that’s not just the politician in me talking,” he says. “Even the Jedi think the end is in sight.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan said so when he was here,” Anakin says.

“Indeed, and he was right. According to my information he has only yesterday been sent to Utapau, where the Jedi hope he will find Grievous.”

Anakin feels a lurch of nerves in his stomach, and curses his illness yet again. He _should_ be going on that mission with Obi-Wan, he _should_ have Obi-Wan’s back while he fights Grievous; better yet, they should kill him _together_. Instead, he can’t do anything to help. He loves this new life, but a strong part of him feels guilty for living in the lap of luxury while his best friends are on the front line.

Palpatine is looking at him, a sympathetic expression on his face. He doesn’t comment, though; he and Padmé move on to discussing the newly appointed Queen of Naboo, and what they think of her.

After dinner, Padmé kisses Anakin’s cheek and goes out of the room to talk with one of the servants.

“Why don’t we move out to patio?” Anakin suggests.

“You’re becoming used to normal life?” Palpatine asks as they walk out into the cool darkness.

“I think so,” Anakin says, only slightly hesitant. The lights are on along the patio walls, small, softly glowing and discreet, illuminating the whole scene gently. Beyond, the night is a ripple of velvety dark blue, with no light to be seen. “It...is quite a lot to get used to,” Anakin admits. “Not being out in the field. Not being among the other Jedi. And being a father, of course.”

“So cruel,” Palpatine murmurs. “That you should be given so much only to see it ripped away so soon.”

Anakin looks down and shuffles his feet, awkward and unsure what to say.

Palpatine lays a comforting hand on his arm. “I assure you, Anakin, I will be here for you, whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Anakin says quietly.

There’s a pause, where Palpatine seems to hesitate. “Anakin, I know they said there was no cure…”

Anakin blinks, then looks up at him curiously. “All the doctors I’ve seen are adamant that there isn’t one.”

“Well, I am no expert on medical knowledge, it’s true. But I am not a man to easily give up hope.” Palpatine looks at him seriously. “It may be fruitless, but I have heard certain things that indicate to me that there may, possibly, be some way to, if not cure the disease, at least ease it.”

Anakin can feel his heart thudding in his chest. He has always known that the healers at the Temple are considered at the cutting edge of medical research; surely they would know, if there were whispers of a treatment?

Palpatine pins him with his gaze. “What I need to know, Anakin, is how far you are willing to go, to be cured.”

“I’d do anything,” Anakin says immediately, almost breathlessly, the image of Padmé and the twins springing into his mind unbidden. _If I could stay alive, even a little longer…for them…_ “If I could see my children grow up…” He swallows thickly. “It’s all I want.”

Palpatine nods. There’s no hint of a smile, but Anakin senses that he feels a rush of…yes, relief, that’s it. “Yes. Parents should give everything for their children,” Palpatine says, his voice very quiet, and Anakin wonders at that comment for a moment. It sounds almost…bitter.

“I will keep investigating these tidings,” Palpatine says, all traces of ill feeling suddenly gone. Now he looks hopeful. “I would count it as my greatest triumph if I could cure you, my friend.”

Anakin feels tears sting his eyes for a moment. “It would be a debt I could never repay,” he says quietly.

There is a rustling of fabric behind them; Padmé’s skirt dragging on the paved floor as she steps outside. “I’ve been to check on the twins,” she says quietly. “It’s almost hard to drag myself away from them, sometimes.”

“Stay with them as long as you can, my dear,” Palpatine advises with a warm smile. “We never know how long we’ll have with our loved ones.”

Padmé throws a sad look at Anakin, but only for a moment. “Yes, indeed.”

“But moping won’t help,” Palpatine says briskly. “Shall we take a night stroll around the lake?”

Eager to put any dark thoughts out of mind, Padmé and Anakin agree. They take the steps down to the waterside arm in arm, following Palpatine into the dark shadows around the shore.

 


End file.
